


Lean on Me

by MoonytheMarauder1



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Arthur Weasley is a Good Husband, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jokes, Molly Weasley is a Good Parent, Second War with Voldemort, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:40:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23502496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonytheMarauder1/pseuds/MoonytheMarauder1
Summary: Molly will always be there for her family. But it takes many years for her to realize that, in return, they want to be there for her.
Relationships: Arthur Weasley/Molly Weasley
Kudos: 15





	Lean on Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hey. y'all! I wrote this for QLFC last season (it won Judges' Pick!), so thought I'd share it here, too. :)
> 
> WARNINGS: Referenced character death, mourning

_November 29, 1971_

Molly Weasley looked over at her husband, exhausted but eyes blazing with a love and passion she didn't know existed. Arthur's eyes mirrored her intense emotion as he too gazed at their newborn son.

"William," she said softly, lovingly. "Bill for short."

Arthur grinned and set his hand on her shoulder. "I like that."

Molly leaned over and pecked his cheek, careful not to wake the sleeping baby. She felt a joy she'd never had before, not even when she'd married the man beside him. This was a new, powerful love and protectiveness that she had a feeling would stick around.

She ran a finger down Bill's smooth, soft cheek in awe. In that instant, she knew she would do anything for this boy.

Six kids later, she would feel exactly the same.

* * *

_May 12, 1977_

Molly pushed her red hair out of her face as she bustled around the kitchen, one-year-old Percy contentedly rolling a ball around and chasing after it. Molly glanced at him fondly as she worked on dinner. Just as she was chopping up the potatoes, Charlie came in, a tiny frown on his small, round face.

Molly worriedly watched him climb up onto a chair. He was normally her happy little boy, but something seemed to be wrong.

"Charlie, love," she called, "is everything all right?"

He turned his brown eyes to her, then glanced back down at the table. "Nothin'," he murmured.

She put her hands on her hips. "You can't fool me, love. What's the matter?"

He bit his lip and sighed slightly. "I don't _know_ , Mummy."

"Oh, I think you do."

"I…" Charlie turned to her suddenly, eyes wide and outraged. "It's not fair, Mummy! I wanna do magic like Bill. It's my turn."

He looked so put out that Molly's heart immediately went out to him. She sat down beside him and kissed his forehead. "Charlie, you need to be patient. If you have magic, then it will come soon. Just let Bill have his fun for now—you'll have your turn."

Charlie pouted, but he seemed satisfied with that answer, which was a relief. She was used to his violent changes in temper, and had braced herself for the worst regarding this.

She patted his shoulder. "Run along, dear. I've got to finish supper."

Charlie nodded and scampered off, still a bit sulky but improved. There was a small smile on his face and a familiar spring in his step. She watched him go fondly, a part of her disappointed that he was growing so quickly.

Then she stood up and got back to work.

* * *

_August 29, 1991_

"Fred and George Weasley, you get down here this instant and apologize to your brother!"

Molly's shout rang through the house, followed by the quick steps of two pairs of feet that knew they were in trouble. Identical sheepish grins peered around the corner at her, then flickered into smirks when they noticed Percy fuming beside her.

They emerged from around the corner fully. "You called, Mum?" George asked innocently.

Molly wasn't impressed. "The both of you need to apologize to your brother this instant. _Yes,_ Fred Weasley, that means you, too."

The twin in question put a hand over his heart dramatically. "Once more I am falsely accused of—whatever it is I am accused of. Falsely."

Face tomato red, Percy stepped forward, brandishing his prefect badge, which once more read "pin head". "Change it back _right now_ , or I'll—"

"It's not even that bad," Fred said flippantly, a grin on his face. "Whoever did it clearly knows you well."

"Fred!" Molly snapped. Then she turned to the oldest of the three. "Percy, don't threaten your brothers." She looked at the twins. "You two—change it back now, and know that this is the only time I will condone underage magic in this house. Understand?"

Both nodded meekly, knowing when they had been beat. George sighed and waved his wand, setting the badge right. Satisfied, Molly sent them off, both laughing and shooting Percy amused glances, and looked over at Percy with an apologetic smile on her face. "There you are, dear."

Percy nodded, but Molly noticed that his shoulders were tense. "Thank you, Mother."

Molly watched him glance down at the badge in his hand and saw how his knuckles tightened around it before he straightened up and gave her a smile. Guessing what the matter was, she put a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm very proud of you, dear. You'll make a wonderful prefect; they made the right decision."

Percy cleared his throat, unsuccessfully hiding the relief in his eyes from his mother. "I'm not worried."

She reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "And you shouldn't be. Now come on, let's go finish packing."

* * *

_April 18, 1995_

It had been going on for weeks now, Ron and Ginny's silent argument. They'd been like this the moment they stepped off the train at the start of the Easter holidays, and hadn't let up since. Molly had tried talking to them, but both refused to tell her what the matter was. She would have written it off as typical sibling rivalry had she not seen the trembling to Ginny's fingers and determined set of Ron's jaw that signified something more.

Molly pushed open the door to Ginny's room after knocking quickly. Ginny, who was sitting in front of a mirror in a floral dress, glanced her way briefly before turning back to her reflection. "Hullo, Mum."

"Hello, dear," Molly responded softly. "How are you?"

Ginny dabbed at her lips with crimson lipstick Auntie Muriel had gifted her recently. Molly let her wear it at home, but she firmly believed that a fourteen-year-old didn't need something quite so bold. "I'm fine, thanks. You?"

Molly quirked an eyebrow at her only daughter. "You know what I'm asking, Ginny."

Ginny's brown eyes were blazing with unexpressed emotion. "Mum, I'm okay. Really, you don't need to worry."

Molly crossed her arms. "What's going on between you and Ron?"

Ginny huffed. "Nothing we can't sort out ourselves, Mum."

Molly sat on Ginny's bed. "Well, clearly you can't, since this has gone on for so long. And don't try to tell me it isn't affecting you—I know it is. Give me a bit more credit than that."

Ginny slammed her fists into her lap, and gasped when she realized that her moment of temper had smeared her makeup across her dress. She grit her teeth. "Great, now my dress is ruined."

Molly tutted and flicked her wand, clearing up the mess. She then pinned Ginny with a glare that demanded she receive answers. The youngest Weasley sighed. "Ron doesn't… like the boys I hang out with, Mum. He—he thinks he has the right to _approve_ of them!"

Fury was burning in her little girl's eyes, and Molly was able to read between the lines and see that her daughter had grown up quite a bit more than she'd thought.

But Molly pushed that bittersweet thought aside and focused on Ginny. "Oh, dear, he's just protective of you. He'll see sense soon."

Ginny huffed. "It doesn't seem that way—not based on what he said."

"Words don't come easily," Molly reminded her. "What's he's trying to say might not be what he's expressing. But I know what you mean, dear." She sighed heavily as memories came flooding back. "My brothers were the same way when I started dating your father."

Ginny's brows rose a fraction in surprise; Molly didn't often talk about Fabian and Gideon, as it was so painful. "Really? But Dad is harmless."

"Your dad is tougher than he seems," Molly reminded her sternly. "But yes, Fabian and Gideon gave him a hard time for ages. They did that to any boy who came near me, really, but your father… well, he kept coming back." She smiled at the thought of Arthur—deceptively strong and fearless, but always so, so reliable. "And I'm glad he did. So you see, Ron is just being an older brother. He'll get over it."

Ginny stared at her hands as she thought about that. Then she stood up and hugged her mother. "Thanks, Mum. And I… I'm sorry about Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon."

Molly felt her eyes well up and embraced her daughter tightly. "Oh, don't be silly dear. It was a long time ago, and besides, I know why they did it. They never could stay out of a fight." She exhaled slowly, letting Ginny's warmth comfort her for a moment. "Best wash up for dinner, now; I've got to go call the boys inside."

Ginny obeyed quickly, but Molly stayed in the room for a bit longer, trying to get her emotions under control. Arthur found her there a few minutes later. He peered at her worriedly. "Molly? Is everything okay?"

She wiped at her eyes and got to her feet. "Yes, of course, Arthur."

He frowned, the lines on his forehead deepening. "Molly… you don't need to be strong for me, you know."

She smiled gratefully at him. "I know. But everything is fine, I promise."

Arthur didn't seem convinced, but he let it slide for now. He held out his hand and Molly took it, lacing her fingers through his. He pulled her in for a hug, and she returned it.

"You're very dedicated to taking care of the kids," Arthur murmured into her hair, "but you should take some time to yourself."

"Arthur. Everything is fine."

He sighed heavily. "If you say so."

* * *

_March 12, 1998_

When Bill told her that Ron had shown up at Shell Cottage without Harry or Hermione, Molly had first been glad that he was safe. She hated that those three had gotten so deeply involved in the war; they were children—what did they expect to do? This was supposed to be her generation's battle.

But when she saw her youngest son looking forlornly out the window, she didn't see the little boy who jumped whenever he saw a spider, or the the one who always managed to get dirt on his nose. She saw a man who had realized his mistake, and who had no idea how to fix it. She saw a man who was ready to give to the fight she herself had joined too late. She saw Fabian and Gideon in him.

There was no doubt in her mind that he was grown, now. It made her brittle heart splinter; finally, her fragile strength had shattered.

"Oh, love," she whispered. "Oh, _Ron._ "

He looked over his shoulder at her as she ran crying into the room, her whole frame shaking as she clutched him tightly. She could feel his resolve crumbling as well, his fingers digging in to her shoulders.

"Mum," he muttered. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too," she answered, voice wavering. "I still can't believe you left."

"I know." Guilt and defiance laced her son's voice. "But Mum, I had to help—"

"Oh, hush, I know. I know. I've been so scared for the three of you… No news, no signs of any kind that you were even still _alive…_ "

"I know." Ron's voice was quiet. "I'm sorry." He pulled away slightly, cheeks tinged crimson with what looked suspiciously like shame. "But you won't have to worry about me anymore. I… they needed me and I left. I couldn't _find_ them Mum, but I tried, I did!"

"Oh, Ronald," she whispered. "It's okay. Dear, don't fret, you did your best, I'm sure."

She hesitated then, unsure of what to say. A very large part of her wanted him to stay here, or go back to the Burrow. She wanted to keep an eye on him—to protect him. But it was so obvious that he was miserable here, worrying about his friends.

These were dark times, Molly knew. But she thought back to Bill and Fleur, rushing into a wedding because there was a possibility of no tomorrow. She thought of how Remus and Tonks had done the same, and how, years previously, she and Arthur had, too.

She had never regretted her marriage with Arthur. She'd never regretted bringing children into the world during a time of war. She wouldn't trade that happiness for anything, and when she looked at Ron, she realized that that was what she really wanted for him: happiness.

"Dear," she said slowly, "if you need to… if fighting is something you need to do, then—" She broke off and wiped at her eyes, trying to get her emotions under control. Letting go… this was the hardest thing she'd ever done. "If you believe that you need to go help them, then I think you should go."

Ron looked up at her in surprise. "Really?"

Molly nodded and tried to smile, even though the tears were falling. "Some chances have to be taken. I want you to be happy, love. More than anything, that's what I want. You're an adult now, anyway. I can't stop you—and even if I could, you wouldn't listen."

Ron smiled at her apologetically for a moment before turning back to stare out the window. "Thanks, Mum, but they don't want me anymore."

His voice was choked with emotion, and Molly hurried to assure him. "Of course they do, love. You just… keep being yourself. That's all anyone can ask of you, and that's all they need."

Ron scoffed. "Everyone we know is trying to kill us. All I could do was make things worse."

"Not everyone," Molly pointed out. "And I don't know what happened, but I know that Hermione and Harry love you. Whatever it is, you can set it right."

Ron was quiet. "You think so?"

Molly pulled him to her chest, ignoring the fact that he was several inches taller than she was. "I know so."

* * *

_May 14, 1998_

She still couldn't quite believe it. It just didn't make any sense in her mind.

Her baby was gone.

But she couldn't stop moving. She still had children to feed, to comfort, to take care of…

Arthur was worried; that much was obvious. He wanted her to slow down, to rest. But she couldn't. Fred was gone, and she'd be damned if she didn't help his brothers and sister.

She never forgot him, though. She went to his grave every night, when Ginny and Ron had fallen asleep. That's where she was now, unshed tears in her eyes and a heart that was missing pieces still beating uselessly in her chest.

She often thought about her conversation with Ron a few months back—how she wanted her children to be happy more than anything. She didn't know if she would have made the same decision now; she may never know.

She knelt beside his grave and lifted trembling fingers to touch the name carved there. The night was cool around her. "A night without you seems like a lost dream," she whispered. "Oh, love, I want to _wake up_."

"Molly?"

Molly turned around to see Arthur walking toward her; he must have arrived home from work to find her missing. His shirt was open, revealing the undershirt beneath, and his glasses were crooked.

Molly reluctantly pulled her hand away from the grave. "Arthur."

His blue eyes were clouded with worry. "Why are you out here, Mollywobbles? It's late."

Her eyes drifted back over to the tombstone. "He needs me too," she said, her voice cracking. "He _needs me,_ Arthur."

She was crying then, and was dimly aware of her husband wrapping his arms around her as he too cried for their lost son.

"Molly… you don't have to hide your mourning from us. It's not healthy, and you need help just as much as we do. Let us be a family and help each other."

Molly buried her head in Arthur's shoulder. "It was my job to protect him. I did my best to save him, Arthur. It wasn't good enough. I have to live with that."

"There was nothing you could have done," Arthur said soothingly, though his fingers trembled as he carded them through her hair. "You weren't even there, Molly."

Her sobs doubled in size. "That's my point, Arthur! If I'd been there, I could have helped! Now there's nothing I can do."

"You can live," Arthur said firmly. "That's what he would have wanted. You're helping the boys and Ginny do just that—now let us help you."

"I don't—"

"You do." Arthur's tone left no room for argument. Then his eyes softened. "I'll be there, whenever you need me. You know that, don't you?"

Molly closed her eyes. "I do."

"Good. We can get through this together, support each other. You don't have to carry everyone."

Molly stared at him for a moment. She was so used to trying to protect everyone—from both external and internal foes—that she often forgot to appreciate Arthur's much less aggressive personality. It was moments like this, however, that reminded her just how important it was to share responsibility—to share burdens.

She didn't want to share this load, wasn't convinced that she should, but she trusted Arthur. So she nodded. "Okay."

Arthur smiled and kissed her head. He glanced over at Fred's grave. When he spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. "We'll visit tomorrow, as a family. No more hiding, Mollywobbles."

Molly let out a watery laugh and agreed. She let Arthur lead her back to the house, but she couldn't help but glance over her shoulder, _hoping_ that she could still be enough.


End file.
